Joe said, “I hope I can be in the saddle soon. This loafing around ain’t in my blood.”
Johnny was outside with him, with a tin cup filled with hot trail coffee. The sky above was a gunmetal gray, and nightfall was not far off.
Johnny said, “We’ve been putting long days in the saddle. We could sure use an extra hand.”
“Maybe if I can wait another couple of days, you and Matt’ll have all them strays rounded up.”
Johnny grinned. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Joe returned the grin. “No. Not really. Pa taught us boys not to be afraid of work. How’s Matt doing out there? He ain’t the most natural on horseback.”
Johnny took a sip of the coffee. “He’s doing fine. Riding a cutting horse during roundup is different than just riding down a trail. He’s learning to move with the horse and not bounce in the saddle so much. Goullie told him to let his legs act as springs, and Matt’s making it work for him.”
Joe nodded. “We’ll make a cowhand out of him yet.”
“Not here, we won’t. Payday is in a couple of weeks, then I say we ride out.”
Joe said, “I won’t mind. I’m not cut out to be a cowhand. I long for the mountains.”
Johnny nodded, but said, “I think I’ll kind of miss this place. If things had been different, I might have been able to settle in on this ranch.”
Goullie came riding in, covered with dust.
He reined up in front of the bunkhouse. “You boys working hard?”
Johnny said, “Hardly working.”
“That’s what I thought.”
It was an old joke. Johnny had heard his father and other farmers using it, and he had heard it in Texas. He figured it had been around as long as there had been working men.
Goullie swung out of the saddle and called for Ciego, who came and got the horse.
Goullie said, “Any of that coffee left?”
Johnny nodded. “A whole pot of it.”
Goullie went into the bunkhouse and came back out with a cup.
Soon Matt wandered over. He had washed the dust and sweat off from a day of rounding up strays, and he had a book in one hand.
Two other cowhands joined them. One was tall and walked with a bowlegged swagger, and Johnny knew him as Williams. The other was young, not much older than Luke. He had a freckled nose and a jaw covered with fine, wispy whiskers He went by the name Tompkins.
Williams said, “Another couple or three days in the saddle ought to do the job.”
Tomkins shook his head. “I sure do hate a stampede. We’re lucky no one got hurt.”
Three nights ago, something had started two hundred head running on a section of range a half mile east of the ranch house.
Tompkins said, “An odd thing, that stampede was. I’ve seen a thunderclap spook a herd, but there weren’t a thunderhead in the sky.”
He looked at Goullie and said, “You think maybe it was a wolf or a coyote?”
Goullie said, “It was a coyote, all right. But the kind that walks on two legs.”
“You think it might have been those men what attacked Miss Maria?”
Goullie said nothing, and began rolling a cigarette.
Tompkins said, “What do you think Mister Grant is gonna do about it? Call in the Texas Rangers?”
Goullie shrugged.
Johnny hadn’t been aware Coleman Grant was approaching, until Coleman said, “We’ll handle this ourselves.”
Coleman was in a white shirt, a black string tie, and a brown corduroy blazer. He was wearing what Johnny thought of as a gentleman’s hat. It was a light gray in color, with a stiffly blocked brim that curved slightly at the sides.
Coleman said to Matt, “Did I see you at the main house a little while ago?”
Matt nodded. “Yes, sir. Mister Grant has an extensive library. He said he doesn’t make much use of it himself, but he told me to help myself. He has a Shakespeare collection and an edition of Plutarch.”
“It’s apparent we’re not keeping you busy enough.”
Coleman didn’t look like he was in a good mood. Johnny and his brothers had been here nearly two weeks, and Johnny didn’t think he had ever seen Coleman in a good mood.
Coleman said, “We’re going to ride night herd tonight. But we’re gonna do it different than we have been. We’re not just gonna protect the herd. We’re gonna see if we can catch these raiders in the act, and maybe bring one of ‘em back. I want to question them.”
“Not a bad idea,” Johnny said.
Coleman looked at him. “Oh, really? And did I ask for your opinion?”
Johnny decided it was best to say nothing. As soon as pay day arrived, he and his brothers would be riding on.
Coleman said, “Since you’re so full of opinions, you won’t mind riding night herd tonight, will you?”
Goullie said, “With all due respect, Mister Grant, O’Brien rode night herd last night, too. And he put in a long day yesterday and today rounding up the strays.”
“Did I ask you, Goullie?”
“No sir.”
“But since you’re so concerned, you can go along with him.”
Coleman turned his attention to Joe. “How much longer before you’ll be ready to ride?”
Joe shrugged. “Soon, I hope.”
“I hope so, too. We’re paying you to do nothing but wait around the bunkhouse.”
Johnny didn’t like the way this was going. You didn’t accuse him or one of his brothers of milking an injury to avoid work. Johnny’s gaze met Coleman’s, and for a moment Johnny thought Coleman was going to challenge him. Coleman would learn his lesson fast, Johnny thought.
But Coleman looked away and said, “All right. Eat your supper and then saddle up.”
Coleman strode away, back to the main house.
Joe said, “For a moment there, I thought you were gonna give him a thrashin’.”
“The thought crossed my mind.” Then Johnny said to Goullie, “For a ramrod, you don’t see him getting dirty all that much, do you?”
Goullie snorted a chuckle and said, “Come on. Let’s grab a plate of beans, and get going.”
50
Had to be past midnight, Johnny figured, looking up at the moon. Maybe close to one o’clock.
He was kneeling on the downside of a small grassy hill. Ahead of him was a small creek that was now running half-dry. Beyond the creek were dozens of dark shapes. Cows, most of them were down for the night.
He could hear a harmonica going from a ways out. One of the men riding night herd had a harmonica. Calm and easy music soothed the herd.
These cows had been rounded up from the last stampede. Johnny estimated there to be about two hundred head, and bunched up the way they were, if they got spooked then they could start running again.
A fire burned low nearby, and a kettle of coffee was being kept warm. Johnny had a tin cup in one hand. He had lost count of the number of cupfuls he had put away tonight. He had managed only about two hours of sleep over the past two days.
Coleman Grant was running him and Matt ragged. Night herd two nights in a row, and two full days of rounding up strays. If Coleman wanted them to ride on, then he was making it plain. Johnny didn’t intend to disappoint him. As soon as they had their pay.
Johnny’s horse Bravo was on the hill behind him, standing in a sleepy kind of way with his head hanging. Johnny had loosened the cinch. The girth, they called it here in Texas.
A man came striding over. It was Goullie. The night had turned off a little cool and he was in a coat. He had leather leggings strapped onto his pants. He called them chaps. Vacqueros had used them for years, and now white cowhands were starting to wear them.
“Gotta get yourself some chaps,” he said. “Riding through the brush is a good way to get your pants all torn up.”
“Maybe with my first paycheck.”
“You ain’t gonna go into town and whup it up with the boys?”
Johnny shook his head. “Nope
. My brothers and I are gonna be riding on.”
“I hate to see that. You’re proving yourself to be a top hand, and Matt’s learning fast.”
“Well, it’s plain Coleman doesn’t want us here.”
“Don’t let him bother you, none. It’s old man Grant who gets the final say in the running of this place.”
Johnny took a sip of coffee. “You know, I have to wonder about what Coleman’s thinking. If any raiders turn up to cause trouble, he wants them taken alive. Does he have any idea how hard that’s gonna be?”
Goullie said, “Just betwixt you and me, I don’t think he has any idea about much. He’s the ramrod because the old man took him in as a whelp and made him his son. But Coleman don’t know squat about cattle or horses. I’ve never seen a ramrod lead from an office at the main house before. Every other ramrod I’ve ever worked for works alongside the men.”
“He might be Mister Grant’s son, but from what I’ve seen it takes more than just a family connection to lead. You have to be able to hold the respect of the men.”
Goullie shrugged. “He doesn’t get much respect. He doesn’t earn it. But a lot of the men are afraid of him. He’s really good with his fists. I’ve never seen anyone as good. He beat a man unconscious last year in town. The man challenged him and Coleman took him down. He killed another man last winter.”
Johnny got to his feet to stretch out his knees a little. They were cramping up from where he was kneeling in the grass.
He said, “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who’s afraid of much.”
Goullie shook his head. “Cautious, maybe, but I can’t think of any man I’m afraid of.”
“Then why do you stay on at the ranch?”
“Respect for the old man. I’ve been with him nearly ten years, now. But if Coleman ever gets too far out of hand, I can always ride out.”
“Ten years.”
Goullie nodded. “I was younger than you when I first signed on with him. Mister Grant ran the ranch himself, back then. Coleman was just a snot-nosed kid.”
“You should be ramrod.”
“That’s what I was hoping for. The ramrod we had back then was a good man. He got married and headed west. New Mexico Territory has a lot of wild cattle. Longhorns that drifted away from herds and multiplied. They’re there for the taking, if you’ve got what it takes to do the work. There’s also Apaches that don’t take too kindly to white men being there. Our old ramrod left with a couple of the men to round up some of that wild cattle, and then with his new wife, they’ve set up a small ranch outside of Santa Fe. Thought sure I was gonna be the ramrod here, but the old man gave the job to Coleman.”
Goullie left for the fire, poured himself a cup of coffee and then came back.
He said, “Just betwixt you and me, Coleman’s got a mean streak, and he’s not someone to turn your back on. Not someone you can trust.”
“Mister Grant must be aware of that.”
Goullie shrugged again, and then blew on the coffee to cool it a bit before taking a sip.
He said, “Mister Grant’s an old man. Maybe he’s hoping Coleman is a better man than he seems. Maybe he’s hoping the job will make a better man of him. I know he’s been wanting an heir who can actually run this place, and marrying Miss Maria doesn’t seem to have helped any. Coleman might be all he’s gonna have.”
Once the coffee was gone, Goullie thought he might saddle up and take a ride out among the herd.
Johnny decided to take a walk to where Matt was stationed. He also decided to bring along his rifle.
He found Matt standing behind a small poplar growing beside the creek. Matt was leaning one elbow against the trunk and looking out toward the herd.
“It’s all I can do to stay awake,” Matt said.
Johnny nodded. “This isn’t doing anyone any good. If we’re too tired to see straight, we’re of no use out here.”
Matt nodded in agreement and was about to say something, but a gun fired from somewhere out at the edge of the herd.
Johnny stepped away from the tree to get a better look. Matt was with him.
A gun fired again. Then four more times. Some of the cows were moaning and bawling, and they were getting to their feet.
“They’re trying to get the herd running,” Matt said.
Johnny cocked the rifle and took aim at where he had seen the gun flashes. It was a shot in the dark—literally—but he felt he had to do something.
He estimated the distance at close to a thousand feet. He allowed for the distance, aiming a little high. The problem wouldn’t be hitting the target, as he had hit targets before at that distance. Target shooting he had done with the Rangers. The problem was the man who did the shooting might have moved.
The cows were already starting to run, so he wasn’t concerned about his own shots spooking them.
Johnny pulled the trigger and the rifle bucked against his shoulder. He then cocked and aimed to a point a few yards to one side of where the shots had been fired, and pulled the trigger again. Then he got off a third shot in the other direction.
The herd was in a full stampede, and the ground was rumbling. Dust often seems to settle more at night, but even still, the cows’ hooves were stirring up a cloud of it.
Johnny caught a glimpse of one rider trying to keep up with the herd. Might have been Goullie. Then the herd and the night riders were off into the distance.
“Come on,” Johnny said. “No need to bother saddling up. We won’t catch up with ‘em, anyway.”
“Where are we going?”
“To see if I hit anyone.”
There were two shots remaining in his rifle, so he tossed it aside and pulled his right-hand gun.
Johnny and Matt each took the small stream with a running leap, and they charged out into the open where the herd had been bedded down. Matt stepped into a fresh cow chip and slid a bit but kept his footing and continued on behind Johnny.
They found a man lying in the grass. Johnny knelt down and placed a hand on the man’s chest. He wasn’t breathing.
In the moonlight, Johnny had a look at him and thought he was a Mexican. He was young, not much older than Johnny. He was in a shirt that looked gray in the moonlight and pants with buttons down the sides. He had a pistol still in his hand, and it looked like one of Johnny’s shots had caught him in the chest.
“Unbelievable,” Matt said. “You shot into the darkness, at where you figured he had to be by the flash of his gun, and you got him.”
The man hadn’t been alone. Johnny realized this when he saw another one of them standing a few yards off, bringing a rifle to his shoulder.
Matt fired, and the man went down.
“That’s two,” Matt said.
“There could be more.”
Johnny faced in one direction and Matt the other, each protecting the other’s back. But there were no more rustlers. They were alone in the night.
In the distance, the rumbling of the herd had stopped. Then they heard some shots, sounding hollow in the distance. Three, four. Then a scattering more.
“That’s coming from more than one gun,” Johnny said.
“You think they found more outlaws?”
Johnny shrugged.
Matt said, “Should we go after them to try to help?”
Johnny shook his head. “By the time we get there..,”
The gunshots had stopped.
Johnny finished his thought, “...it would be too late to help.”
They went to confirm the man Matt shot was dead. Then Matt said, “Now what?”
“We wait for Goullie and the others.” Even though there seemed to be no more rustlers, Johnny kept his gun ready.
Matt said, “We just killed two men.”
Johnny nodded. “Had to be done.”
“Yet we don’t seem too shaken up about it.”
“I suppose not. I’ve had to kill before. So have you.” Johnny started walking toward the campfire. “Come on. Let’s get some more co
ffee.”
Matt fell into place beside him. “I wonder what Ma would say.”
“I hope she never finds out. Joe says they’re talking about me in saloons and cattle camps, but I hope he’s exaggerating.”
“From what I’ve seen lately, I doubt he is. The shot tonight, getting a man in the dark when you couldn’t even see him. And the way you shot that raider in a way so that Miss Maria wouldn’t get hurt.”
“It wasn’t that great a shot.”
“Johnny, it was probably the most fantastic thing I’ve ever seen. How did you even think to do that?”
Johnny stopped walking. “There’s this strange thing about me, Matt. I never mentioned it back home. But when the bullets are flying and death is all around me, I just get this strange calmness about me. A strange sort of quiet inside. Like I’m doing just what I need to be doing, and I’m where I’m supposed to be. Like I’m focused and have a sense of purpose. I never feel quite that way any other time.”
“Weren’t you afraid, any of those times? Like the story you tell, about shooting those five Comanches?”
Johnny shook his head. “They were riding down on Zack Johnson and me. Ten of ‘em. First Zack caught an arrow inh his leg, and this his horse went down. I jumped out of the saddle and stood at his side. I wasn’t going to leave him behind. That was a sort of code of honor we had in that particular band of Rangers. We didn’t leave a man behind, no matter what.
“So I just drew my gun and faced those riders. Ten of ‘em, bearing down on me. They were about a thousand feet away and coming fast. I just drew my gun and this strange calm came over me. It occurred to me it was no different than shooting cans off a fence. I just started firing. Five shots—five riders.
“I did a border shift so I’d have a fresh gun in my hand, but the remaining five wheeled their horses around and rode off.”
“Just like that.”
“Just like that. It was over almost before it started. Zack saw it and couldn’t stop talking about it back at the fort. But I never felt a twang of fear. And it was the same when that raider had a gun to Miss Maria’s head. I got that strange calmness again. I just knew what kind of shot I had to make and that I could make it.”
They started walking again.
Johnny McCabe (The McCabes Book 6) Page 24
